


Save The Last Dance For Me

by learninghowtosmut



Series: Royalty AU [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Ballroom Dancing, Dancing, Fluff, M/M, Prince/servant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 11:17:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19973191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/learninghowtosmut/pseuds/learninghowtosmut
Summary: Prince Lovino is going to a ball to Find Him A Royal Spouse. He would rather just stay in his room and dance with his servant, Antonio.





	Save The Last Dance For Me

His hands always linger ever so slightly too long to be entirely proper and, as a result, getting dressed is taking Prince Lovino twice or even three times as long as usual, even for this ridiculously elaborate new suit. The clothes had been specially commissioned for this evening and, to his mind, standing absolutely still while his servant dresses him, it feels like they were made to be at least ten times as complicated as they really need to be.

His servant’s broad hands smooth down along his shoulders and tug out any remaining wrinkles on his coat before going to tease out the waterfall of frothy white lace which cascades down from his neck. The pad of his thumb brushes lightly down the line of his throat.

Lovino swallows. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. Gold eyes flick up to meet green.

“I expected you to complain more,” Antonio murmurs, making a move to step back. Lovino catches him, the lightest touch to his sleeve more than enough to hold him in place, eternally captive to his prince.

“I’ve been bitching to you about this for months,” he points out quietly, unwilling to break the intimate hush of the room. “You’ve heard everything I have to say about this whole mess.” He sighs, shoulders dropping down. “ _ I don’t want some rich, noble husband or wife _ .” He sighs again, closes his eyes, lets his chin drop down and brush against the snow-white lace.

Antonio finishes up the final touches, smoothing out unwanted folds and tugging each piece into the perfect position. His hands linger with each motion and eventually finish to rest on his lower back.

“I just want  _ you _ ,” Lovino breathes at last, going up on his toes to catch Antonio’s face in finely-gloved hands, finally pulling him into a desperately tender kiss. “I wish I could just - just dance with you all night,” he confesses, having pulled only a few millimetres away, their lips just barely brushing together as he speaks.

“There’s nothing stopping us from dancing together,” Antonio murmurs, lifting up his hands to take him in hold. His left hand slides into Lovino’s right, and the other rests solid and secure on the prince’s back. He steps forwards into a slow waltz, moving to the sound of a music all their own. Lovino, who’s been having dancing lessons almost since he started to walk, or it felt, instinctively steps backwards with him, left hand going to rest on his arm. He allows himself to be steered around his chambers, eyes closed and his attention focusing on every little movement of Antonio’s body where it presses along the length of his own. Each little shift and change tells him where to step, what he’s doing next.

And then he abruptly turns the tables on him with a playful smirk. He drops Antonio’s hand and rests his own on his back, his left hand darting behind himself to catch Antonio’s right and hold it out, moving the two of them into an effortless spin. He changes directions and takes the lead. 

Antonio laughs as he moves with this change. A smile crinkles up the corners of his eyes and he quickly negotiates through the little stumble caused by the sudden change in role.

“I wish I could marry you too,” he tells him softly, trusting Lovino without question not to do anything too dangerous - or naughty - as he bends his head for a quick kiss, just going with it. 

Then, while he’s off his guard, he quickly drops his hands to his lover’s waist, easily lifting him and retaking the lead role after he carefully sets him down. Lovino, of course,  _ glares _ up at him, petulence strong in the line of his lips. 

That was  _ cheating _ , damn it!

But he still lets him take back the lead. He’d rather die than admit it, but… he enjoyed being lifted so easily into the air like that. He can wait, anyway.  _ Just _ long enough for him to drop his guard.

He sees his moment.

He strikes.

Quick as a flash of lightning, he retakes the lead in their little dance and firmly directs his lover into another spin - comply or fall, the determined line of his body says. There is  _ no way _ that he’ll let him retake the lead from him again. Their bodies are pressed together with the easy intimacy of lovers and Lovino focuses intently on every single little tiny move that Antonio makes,watching for the slightest twitch of his muscles that might signal impending betrayal. 

It isn’t that either of them see anything  _ wrong  _ with being the follower. It’s just that now this struggle has become a matter of  _ principle _ , with neither of them willing to step down and ‘lose’ to the other.

He tips his head up to shoot Antonio a challenging smile, his wariness immediately jumping up to an even higher level when the returned smile is full of gleeful mischief. The next few attempts to turn the tables and topple the prince as leader all fail; there is a death grip on his hand, and each time he tries, Lovino promptly steers them both into a rapid succession of turns and spins. Had Antonio suffered through the same stringent lessons as he had himself, the prince would be bringing in some mercilessly difficult fancy footwork, the kind which demands the dancer’s full, unwavering attention lest they court disaster itself. His sense of fair play, what little of it there is, however, is aware that his servant has learnt little more than the basics. Overcomplication in this case would only be begging for trouble. And bruises.

After many failed attempts, Antonio seems to have given in, just for the moment, and is just enjoying the dance with his lover. Lovino on the other hand remains vigilant. And he is right to. Not even half a turn around the room later, Antonio quickly tries to retake the lead - hoping to catch him off-guard. Lovino resists with a sharp grin.

In the ensuing struggle, one foot catches another leg - and they’re beyond the point of knowing which belongs to who - and they tip. There comes a heavy landing on the bed.

For a heartbeat, silence reigns.

As if on cue, they descend into sniggers, then giggles, then burst into fully-blown laughter together, Antonio’s arms folding around Lovino’s body where it lies on top of him. Needless to say, he is once again deeply appreciative of the luxurious softness of the prince’s bed. He offers him another kiss, this time holding it, basking in the softness of his lips and the curl of that immeasurably precious smile, even the weight of the body on top of him - despite the fact that the brocade is a little itchy where it’s touching his skin. He cups his jaw tenderly and tips his head back against the bed to look up at him with worshipful adoration.

Lovino shifts, suddenly self conscious with the weight of that gaze, and a dusky bloom stains his cheeks. “...What?”

“Just… you might be going down there and you might be dancing all night with all those sons and daughters of important people, but at the end of the night… I’m the one who’ll undress you,” he promises with a possessive grin. “You’ll be coming back to me, and I’ll be right here. Waiting for you.”

Lovino softens and dips down to press another kiss to his lips. “Way to make yourself sound like my dirty little secret,” he grumbles quietly.

Antonio shoots an incorrigible grin up at him. It’s not wrong, after all.

“...I’ll keep it in mind,” he murmurs at last with a soft glow of anticipation and another little self-indulgent kiss.

“Now come on! I’ve got to get you all tidied up again! You’ve got your clothes all creased!”

The little pout shot at him forces Antonio to correct himself. He must take his own share of the blame, apparently. 

A waltz does, after all, require  _ two _ .

“I don’t mind being a little late down,” he purrs.

“And I’ll be the one getting the blame - and punishment! Come on - up you get! Let me finish dressing you. Again.” He pushes him verbally, not willing to physically make him move. It would seem that the rule about a cat on your lap applies to lazy princes as well; no movement until they deign to get up.

“Fine.” He rolls his eyes, goes in for one last peck to his lips and slowly gets to his feet. “...Okay, yeah. It looks… pretty bad,” he admits, holding himself ready and still.

As Antonio’s hands begin to move over his body again, smoothing creases and pulling fabric back into place, he feels a soft little smile steal onto his lips.

At last he gets his servant’s seal of approval and slips away to dinner in the nick of time, sent away with a final loving kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the gift I made for an xmas in July event


End file.
